071. Broken

Title: The Last One Breathing

Rating: PG-13

Pairing/Characters/s: Shichinintai, some implied Bankotsu/Jakotsu

Word Count: 1,181

Warning/s: People dying. Descriptions of torture in some detail, and rape is implied.

Summary: In the end, they were all beheaded, but first, they were broken; one by one by one.

Dedication: For Rin-oneechan, who had no clue what I was babbling about and hates Inuyasha, but puts up with me anyway and tells me when my ideas are crap.

A/N: So, I was re-watching episode 110, and I thought, 'Damn. They really, really hate the people in that castle.' Which, you know, duh, but the strength of their hatred seems a little, oh . . . excessive. That led me to wondering about what would make someone hate another group of people that much. And, bingo! Three hours later, this story was born.


In a way, Kyoukotsu is the luckiest one of them all; an arrow between the eyes, barely enough time for his eyes to go wide with shock, and then he's just gone. No suffering; not enough time to suffer. Just a little pain, and then . . . the blissful realm of nothingness.

Bankotsu knows that they are going to be caught at least a week before it happens; they all know it, deep down inside. He can see it in their eyes. And while Bankotsu knows that when they are caught, they will be killed, the idea of being tortured has never occurred to him.

But they are soon caught, though they kill enough of those bastards for the leaders to get a little worried first, and the first thing that happens reminds him that killing people slowly and torture are two very different things.

Ginkotsu dies first; they melt all the metal in him down while forcing the rest of them to watch, and the stink of burning flesh, thick and choking, hangs about them like a bad dream, and when the small, twitching, twisted mass of flesh and metal that is all that's left of Ginkotsu, is pulled out of the dying embers, that damned General beheads him without blinking. There is a soft, sudden 'gesh' from the dying man, as if the air is being shoved out of his heaving lungs in one, final effort, and then – nothing.

All of them are shaken, but Renkotsu is the worst off, and Suikotsu's personalities are both too paralyzed by anger and worry for one to be chosen as the dominant personality. They both just sit there, comatose and shaking slightly.

Mukotsu is next, and his suffering makes Jakotsu cry out in shared agony and helplessness, and hide his face in the curve of Bankotsu's shoulder, because his arms are tied behind his back, just like Bankotsu's. They drag knives across that already homely face, and long, thin needles are shoved into pressure points, until the poison master is no more than a pile of ripped up flesh and metal, already in so much agony that further torture or pain can no longer reach him. This time, when that goddamned bastard raises his sword, he smirks before it falls.

Bankotsu has never hated anyone this much in his life; he whispers soothing words, of slaughtering their enemies and painting with their blood, to Jakotsu, and plans out his revenge.

When it's Renkotsu's turn though, there is a small amount of childish satisfaction; Renkotsu does not scream, or cry, or show any signs of pain at all. They bring torches to his flesh until it has been burned black; hit him and slash lightly at him with their katanas and spears until his body is colored black and blue and stained bright red with blood. But through it all, Renkotsu does not make a sound, or show any emotion in the least. He simply stares straight ahead, eyes glazed and dull.

The wind carries the sound of Renkotsu's wild laughter in the moments before the sword falls upon his neck, and Bankotsu smiles a vicious, sharp-fanged smile at that fucking son of a whore. The smile says 'we're not gonna go in peace, you stupid son of a bitch' and 'we're gonna kill you, and it's gonna be a thousand times more creative than this'.

It gives him no small amount of satisfaction when there is a tiny flash of uneasiness in those tiny, narrowed eyes.

Suikotsu's torture is done more in his head than to his body; they lay the bodies of dead children out before him, some killed by sickness, others by some accident, but a few who were caught out in that wretched, wretched snow and froze to death. With his hands tied behind his back, Suikotsu's doctor side cannot touch them, or try and bring them back to life, but his killing side cannot reach out to them, or slash and destroy and erase them forever from his host's mind. Torn between both sides, but being unable to satisfy either, Suikotsu's mind cannot take it any longer; he can do nothing but scream in agony as his mind is ripped in two.

As the sword strikes Suikotsu's head from his neck, the screaming finally stops, cut off so suddenly, it's as if all the sound in the world has been stopped, but Jakotsu's heart-broken sobs still ring in Bankotsu's ears. That fucking General laughs heartily now, mocking their agony and suffering in a way that Bankotsu can never forgive. He vows to haunt this man, if it comes to that, and to kill him, if he lives.

He is not forced to watch them torture Jakotsu, but he can hear everything, and in a way, that's worse. Jakotsu's pain is the one he feels the most, and the one that makes him want to be sick and kill every single one of these goddamned bastards in the most painful, drawn out way that he can think of. They drag his effeminate friend into a shack, without a single word, but Bankotsu can guess what they are doing to him; Jakotsu's screams of horror and agony echo in his ears. Gasps and sobs of humiliated pain mingle with groans of pleasure and hateful laughter, and Bankotsu grinds his teeth and hates.

One of those hated hands reaches down and yanks Jakotsu's hair, hard, and exposes those bruised cheeks and swollen lips, and then that fucking asshole looks down and leers at the slender man, which makes Jakotsu's eyes go wide and frightened. Then, faster than Bankotsu's eyes can possibly follow, that sword swings down, biting into that pale, soft skin at the back of the pretty man's neck. Jakotsu's eyes widen for a moment, the pupils dilated hugely, so that no color can be seen; just two pools of infinite blackness, sucking Bankotsu in.

And then, there is nothing left in him but hate, and the mad desire to kill.


There is a story that has been told around the campfires of soldiers for years upon years. It is about the Shichinintai; and their leader Bankotsu, who killed 999 men before he died.

They say that when he was dragged up before the General, he just looked at the man, and that his eyes could have frozen a God in its tracks. They were cold, and wild, and filled with hate and rage and a madness so strong that it seemed as if he would be able to kill with a glance.

The General beheaded him quickly, trying to gain relief from that terrible gaze, trying to forget those hateful eyes.

But they continued to stare, even once the blood had stopped flowing.

A tomb was built, and the bodies buried properly, in hopes that the spirits would be pleased, or at least be put to proper rest.

Still, it was rumored that the General sometimes woke up yelling, grasping for his sword, and covered in sweat. Others said that sometimes, when he walked past the tomb, the ghosts would follow him for days, taunting him until he went nearly mad with terror.

At the very least, all of Ushitora knew better than to try and meet the General's eyes.


And that's all folks!

Now, I'm not a review-dependent author, so this'll be updated no matter what.

However . . .

I do enjoy getting reviews, even if it's flaming from some thirteen year old in Texas. So, just . . . keep that in mind.